


trust me.

by hyzkoa



Series: Peter Parker is Trans [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Gen, Gender Dysphoria, Trans Male Character, Trans Peter Parker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-18 03:44:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14845059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyzkoa/pseuds/hyzkoa
Summary: Tony Stark makes a minor upgrade for Peter's suit, but Peter hasn't told him he's a trans boy--a trans man. He's Spider-Man.





	trust me.

**Author's Note:**

> thank u @Vampalaurels on twitter for letting me talk abt this fic with her bc my two brain cells need brainstorming and bouncing ideas to survive
> 
> happy pride month

The suit was skin tight and even though Peter put it on earnestly, he had expected discomfort.

Mr. Stark had simply left a suitcase with his new _hero outfit_ waiting for him on his hotel room, and he now felt like the conversation that had prompted him to be recruited was a test he passed _with honor,_ if he already didn’t feel happy enough an Avenger had acknowledged him. But that was the most they had talked and there had been no hint whatsoever that this suit wasn’t made for a body that wasn’t biologically male. There was no way for him to either ask him or tell him about it, as Happy was the one transporting him around Germany – and if the thought of telling Mr. Stark was already revolting his stomach, it’d be impossible to tell Happy and hope that there’d be no prejudices that’d keep him from telling Mr. Stark. Or maybe Mr. Stark had noticed and the suit was made for his physicality…? In that case, would Peter have it in himself to tell Tony Stark—or Happy—that he couldn’t use the suit? Would he have to fake in sick to sit out the fight? That wouldn’t work either way. He wouldn’t do that.

His worst fear was confirmed once he put on the suit and felt it fitting tightly against his bare body underneath. He closed his eyes under the mask, feeling a sharp pain in his chest. There was discomfort now, yes, but it wasn’t any physical ache coming from an ill-fitting restriction. No. The discomfort was different, albeit familiar. It wasn’t physical. Not for a few seconds, at least, until he broke down and closed his eyes to shut away the look in the room’s mirror, getting down on his knees, feeling needles pinching on every inch of his body, burning.

He grabbed the note that had been on the suitcase again.

‘Trust me.’

There was something eerie about that. He took off the mask, filling his chest with air, and opened his eyes again. As he sat cross-legged on the floor, he noticed something.

There was something between his legs.

And that slapped him back into his body, apparently, as the sensation then became evident. _And it was familiar_.

Packing.

He stared at it in disbelief. He wasn’t packing, certainly, he didn’t put anything on—though, he had thought of it and had it on his luggage, but this just came out of nowhere.

How…?

Although he wasn’t as fast as he’d be if he wasn’t having trouble thinking through his anxiety; he looked down at the spider in his chest, pressing his lips down into a line. He pressed it again and the suit became loose around his body, he pressed it once more and it was skin tight again, the packing appearing immediately.

 _‘Trust me.’_ That’s what the note said, and now those two words punched the air out of his lungs.

He knew.

Tony Stark knew.

The onslaught of _everything_ that released upon his mind was overwhelming. The suit was overwhelming. This was overwhelming. Being personally visited by his idol and escorted to basically meet the Avengers was _one thing_ —even getting a suit upgrade by Tony Stark himself was one thing, but having said upgrade fit his needs because Tony Stark knew and went out of his way to use his technology for Peter’s comfort even though he didn’t ask him to . . .

Peter stood up, running his hands through his hair and then keeping them in his nape, looking up, blinking rapidly.

And, well, if this suit had packing…

He looked down at his chest. The binding didn’t activate immediately, so it had to be manually. His first guess was trying something with the spider in his suit again, but he looked at the web-shooters just in case.

The knocks on his door pulled him out of the trance. Happy.

“Wait—wait a second. I’m putting it on.”

“Kid, hurry up. How long does it take to put a suit on? Just touch it.”

“What?”

“The spider, slide your finger on it like a zipper.”

He did that, and surprisingly, that did it. His eyes widened again as he felt a light compression in his chest. Even if he saw it happen with his own two eyes, again, it was a lot to process without a previous notice that Mr. Stark had built this. A hand reached out to his chest, slowly, as if he might touch fire. It was flat, but… his chest still heaved with labored breathing freely. He already could feel that whatever binding mechanism Mr. Stark had included in his suit wouldn’t be a hindrance for fights. It was better, lighter, than anything he’s ever worn. It was as if he was wearing nothing.

“Oh my god.”

And then it started to sink in again. A binder and packing; _it can’t be_.

“ _Oh my god_.”

Well, it’s Tony Stark. He’s a genius.

“ ** _Oh my god_**.”

He’s the best genius that there’s ever been.

Peter lunged to where he had left his camera rolling, nervously grabbing it as his hands shook under the feeling of a million ants walking through them. And for the first time in this whole trip he found himself at a loss of words, his mouth gaping and sounds coming out of it that failed to form a coherent sentence, let alone words with more than three syllables.

Happy must’ve taken that as his cue to walk in, but Peter had left the door locked.

“Open up!”

Peter complied, then running back to the center of the room, near the suitcase and landing in front of the mirror with a flip. He looked at himself. There had been a small sound the spider had made after he held it down and the upper part of his suit turned into a binder, he tried to press it lightly again, then putting a bit more force on it but with brief pushes; it wouldn’t come off.

He looked at it in all the angles, standing on profile and even arching his back. He felt nothing, he saw nothing. And on top of all of that, it looked like he had nice pecs.

A breath he didn’t realize he was holding left him as if someone had hit him in the chest (and _that_ someone wouldn’t have felt anything strange in Spider-man’s chest neither) and he stumbled backwards, then hurrying forward to stand closer to the mirror, a wide smile spreading in his face. Peter felt like screaming, but in a good way.

He then turned to Happy, who was closing and locking up the suitcase.

“How did he know?”

“Know what?”

“Did Aunt May tell him? Wait, no—she wouldn’t—they were just talking about—whatever they were talking about, other stuff, I don’t know—right?”

Happy squinted at him.

“He didn’t—he didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“Oh, like, I’m trans but I didn’t—transgender, I’m transgender—but yeah, I didn’t mention that to Mr. Stark—though, yeah, he was in my room I guess, maybe he saw one of my binders or something—like,” He pressed his lips, his shoulders raising, as if he was about to explode, “how did he know?”

Happy just blinked as Peter dumped all that information on him.

“Oh, you were talking about that.”

“What else would I be talking about? You even told me to hold down the spider!”

“Hey.” He looked like he was about to scold Peter, but backtracked as he didn’t find anything to justify himself with. He shifted the blame. “Mr. Stark just told me to tell you that.”

“Well, to press it was obvious but to me to—”

“I got it, kid.”

Peter handed his camera to Happy. “Can you record me? I want to get like, a full-body view.”

Happy didn’t look like he was exactly down for it, and the way he kept looking at his watch made the reason clear, but time wasn’t really a concept for Peter at the moment.

“Did Mr. Stark tell you?”

“Oh, yeah. But it was accidental. I kind of walked in on him when he was testing out the binding stuff on Pepper.”

“He told Ms. Potts?!”

“Oh—uhm—yeah, about that…” Happy cleared his throat. “I think he wants to apologize. He looked troubled when I walked in. I’m sure he wants to do it personally so I don’t know what he would say exactly but—”

“No, it’s okay. It’s okay, Happy. I mean, it would be bad, probably, if he used a complete stranger as a model. Ms. Potts is fine. You’re fine.”

“Is the suit fine, too?”

“Oh, it’s—it’s amazing. Mr. Stark should have some line of binders, these would be great! It’d be even greater to have an Avenger support transgender people publicly. He could even do stuff like these for trans women.”

“You can tell him that later.”

“Man, this is so great!” He jumped on his spot, taking the mask off the floor and putting it on. He shook his hands and legs and then extended his arms horizontally.

“What’s that? What are you doing?”

“T-posing.” Peter answered, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, even to an adult.

“Stop that, you’re scaring me.”

Peter walked closer, silently.

“Alright, that’s enough.” He put the camera down, pushing Peter to walk out of the room with him. “We gotta go.”

“Is it time?”

“Not yet. You have time to test out the suit. Mr. Stark wants to make sure the binder doesn’t affect you.”

He grabbed the phone from Happy’s hands.

“Mr. Stark made a suit with binder and packing for me! How crazy is that?! It was probably a new invention, like, he’s—he’s testing stuff out with Ms. Potts and then,” He turns the camera’s focus to Happy’s face, “Happy walks in because he doesn’t know how to knock—”

“Hey!”

 “— _I’m joking, I’m joking, just kidding_.” He turned the camera back to his own face. “Oh, yeah, did Ms. Potts say something?”

“Something like that?”

“Uh, I don’t know. Was she shocked? Was Tony shocked? Were you shocked?”

“Kid, people can do magic and shrink into the size of an ant, I already forgot how to be shocked at anything.”

“But I’m a first, right?”

“What?”

“Like, the first trans Avenger.”

“You’re not an Avenger.”

Peter pouted. “Okay, okay. The first trans hero, then.” Happy hummed. Peter squinted. “Am I?”

“Go test the suit out already! You have 5 minutes less.”

There wasn’t much Peter could do or say to stay in the  room talking and asking Happy another 5 million questions that he couldn’t probably answer, some that he’d just repeat to Tony later, as him bugging Happy with any of this was because Tony wasn’t anywhere near to attend the hyperactive kid.

He swung across the streets of Berlin, picking up the speed as did a number of acrobatics in the air. Although it was the best time he had had swinging in a while, he had to stop, landing in a rooftop as the inside of his mask became humid. He took it off and laid down on the building’s rooftop, looking at the sky, smiling as tears streamed down his face.

His body felt good. He could breathe. He could crouch, jump, and do everything he ever did as Spider-Man without any inconvenience. His fingers traced the outside spider on his chest and no matter how many times he tested it out, the binder wouldn’t come off. Not like he wanted it to, not right now, but he needed to know if there was a chance that it would come off during the fight. He guessed there was also the same chance that the whole suit would just loosen up around his body, but it felt like that wouldn’t happen and that the little sound it had made when the binder came off had secured it into not being undone by anything, no matter how hard the punch.

Tony Stark did this for him.

He smiled.

“I just will dodge punches.”

Saying out loud sounded way more stupid, given the fact that if a fight did break out, it would be him versus a part of the Avengers. One of them could even do magic. And he wasn’t sure if he’d really want to fight Captain America.

The binder came off.

“Wh—”

He shoved his mask back on, looking around, then tried to trace back on his movements while he was thinking about ‘ _oh my god I’m meeting Captain America, too’._ He slide his index finger on it like a zipper again, and it came on.

He made his way back to the hotel.

* * *

“Sir, I just want to—”

“Wait, hold it.”

Peter went quiet in that instance.

“Did it work fine? Are you not injured? I read you could even break your ribs with binders. You haven’t been using them before while swinging around, right?”

“Well, for a while I kind of did, yeah.”

“Kind of? You were _kind of_ wearing them?” Tony raised a brow.

“Yeah, kind of—I mean, it didn’t really work out, I knew it wouldn’t work out, but I was worrying I couldn’t keep the brand as Spider-Man if I didn’t, you know? So I just got a bigger hoodie.”

“And you’re fine?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m fine. No broken ribs. I kind of got skin irritation but I dealt with that.”

“You have to drop that kind of, alright. We’re talking about your health here, kid.”

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s alright.” Tony took off his glasses. “Listen, I can’t understand what it must feel like, but you can’t harm yourself to try to keep a brand, okay? Tight hoodie, baggy hoodie, whatever you wear, you’re still—what is it that you call yourself again?”

“Uh—” Peter gulped, looking away for a second as he blinked rapidly, scratching the back of his head. “I’m the friendly—uh, your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.”

“That’s right. You’re the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. So take it easy, I’ll try to help.”

 _Don’t cry, Peter_. “Thank you, sir.” Never mind, he was tearing up already. “The—uh,” he sniffed, “the suit worked great, by the way.”

“Yeah? No irritation? No trouble breathing? Back pain?”

“No, no. It was great. It felt like there was nothing.”

“Now, on that note. I’m sorry that someone who I won’t name—happy—found out about it. He doesn’t know how to knock, clearly.”

Peter held back a laugh. “It’s fine, I don’t mind. So, you’re—uh, you’re cool with it, sir?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? Actually, no, pretend I didn’t ask that. I know I come from a generation that is stuck in the past, but I’ve never really gotten along with them either way. Don’t worry about it, Peter.”

“Thank you. That means—that means a lot, Mr. Stark.”

“I’m also sorry I told Pepper, too. I needed a test subject and she’s not the type to just let me do stuff without knowing the reason. Otherwise I’d probably have blown out the house at this point.”

“You already did that.” Happy interjected.

“She’s cool with it, too?” Peter switched the camera to Tony’s face again.

“Yeah, of course she is. Are you cool with it, Happy?”

“I’m cool with it.”

“Good, otherwise you’d be fired.” Happy didn’t find that amusing. “He’s probably just happy we let him into our circle. See, Happy is hoping to get bumped up to asset management. He was forehead of security, and before that he was just a driver.”

“That was a private conversation. I don’t like joking about this. It was hard for me to talk to.”

“No, seriously, was he snoring a bunch?”

“Alright, here we are.” Happy stopped the car abruptly. “End of the line.”

“Whoops.” Tony laughed. “Happy, can you give us a moment?”

“You want me to leave?”

“Grab Peter’s case out of the trunk.”

Peter lowered the camera, disbelief plastered in his face. “ _I can keep the suit?_ ”

**Author's Note:**

> [ twitter.](https://twitter.com/hyzkoa)


End file.
